


The Only Direction There Ever Was

by twentyone



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Hot bath, Jack Daniels, M/M, Zayn is confused, friend helping friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyone/pseuds/twentyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is confused. Harry helps him out, like a good friend should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Direction There Ever Was

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 1D work so hopefully it's not too out of character! Takes place in NY, no specific time. Enjoy :)

Zayn stood alone on the balcony of the boys’s penthouse suite of some fancy hotel or other - it was getting difficult to keep track of the names when they were this far into the tour – staring out across the Hudson river, the dark thick band of water that threaded and churned a hundred feet below. It was a Friday, so naturally the night was packed with tourists and locals alike, laughter and a jumbled blend of languages rising up from the streets to his ears, like smoke, almost. This was why he loved to travel, why he loved the tour so much; this exposure to so many people and cultures and ways of life. It was fascinating, to say the least. And Zayn found it ironic that he was not down there at the moment, spending the night with those people like he should have been.

 

Mindlessly he reached around into his back pocket and pulled out his Paul Malls and cheap plastic lighter. The sane part of his brain told him that he should not light that cigarette because he had already had at least ten today, but the sane part of his brain was growing smaller every day. He hesitated, finger frozen over the switch, and after a moment his bad side won (as always) and there was a metallic click and the small flame flared and settled, illuminating the sharp contours of Zayn’s face. He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, feeling the warm comforting smoke settle somewhere deep inside of him.

 

He was halfway through the cig when his phone vibrated in his pocket. The screen read 1 new message: Perrie<3 and a picture of the two of them shone brightly, harshly, into Zayn’s tired eyes. In the picture Perrie had her arms wrapped around Zayn’s waist and was kissing his cheek. Zayn was smiling, and anyone who knew him would say he was happy. But anyone who knew him well – which was not very many people – would see past the grin and understand that, well, he might have looked happy, but in all honesty he was far from it. His thumb pressed the red button decisively without opening the message. The picture disappeared.

 

It had started about a month ago, back before they left for the States tour. Perrie had begged Zayn to stay with her, which he could not do for several obvious reasons. Zayn had wanted to know why she had become so attached to him, and Perrie had told him that she was scared for him. And jealous. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to say that.

 

Scared – of what?

 

Not of. For. I’m scared for you, baby.

 

Why?

 

I’m scared you’ll find another girl, when I’m not around.

 

That’s crazy. I love you, babe, and only you. Don’t you know that?

 

And her eyes had wavered and filled with tears that did not fall, and Zayn saw that she had started to doubt him. So he had left for tour with the unresolved argument between them, and had surprised himself when he didn’t feel upset or sad or anything, really, about this falling apart. Perrie texted him nearly every day, and sometimes Zayn would reply, but it was all simple matter, bunches of how are you’s and what city are you in’s and I’ll call you when I can’s, which was a promise Zayn somehow never managed to keep.

 

He took another drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt over the edge of the balcony. Watching it disappear into the hoards of people beneath him, Zayn had never felt more alone. Here he was at the ripe age of nineteen, a time when most people would be going to college and getting their first real jobs and girlfriends and boyfriends, saving money for the future, thinking ahead. And Zayn, staring down the road of his life, could only see One Direction. Fangirls. Autographs. Singing the same songs over and over again. Perrie. Her face was starting to fade into just another billboard along the side of the road, just another drive-by.  
He loved to tour, and he loved the boys, and he thought he had loved Perrie, but if all it took was a month apart for him to stop missing her then Zayn knew that it wasn’t going to work. Or wasn’t meant to. Zayn did not believe in destiny or fate or what Liam liked to call ‘religious horseshit,’ but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something more to life than – than this, whatever this was – out there, somewhere, waiting for him to discover it.

 

Like that’s going to happen anytime soon, Zayn mused bitterly as he lit another cigarette, ignoring the red WARNING signs going off in his mind. Fuck that. Fuck his health, his lungs. Fuck everything.

 

The rest of the boys had left some time ago, most probably to wreak havoc somewhere in the Great Apple, with a promise not to return until very late, and so Zayn was so startled that he dropped his cigarette when the sliding glass doors to the balcony opened behind him. He whirled around immediately, and relaxed when he recognized the Harry’s lopsided silhouette. (His hair, of course, was what made it lopsided.) Harry came up next to Zayn, leaned on his elbows over the edge of the balcony, his Vans nudging Zayn’s bare feet.

 

“Where’s everyone else?” Zayn asked when it became apparent that Harry wasn’t going to start the conversation. Harry shrugged.

 

“Dunno. Niall found a candy store – no, I’m not kidding,” Harry said seriously when Zayn snorted, “and so he’s stocking up, Liam met a girl at this Irish pub and we left them there, and then Louis decided he’d rather eat candy with Niall than watch the game at the sports bar we were at and so I figured I’d rather come back than watch the two of them get sugary and homosexual, yeah?” Harry laughed and Zayn cracked a dry smile. After a moment Harry seemed to notice Zayn’s silence. “Anyway, what’ve you been up to?”

 

Now it was Zayn’s turn to shrug. Lighting another cig, he inhaled and blew a thin ribbon of smoke into the New York skyline. They watched the gray smoke curl and fade, becoming just another part of the night. “Nothing, really. Just ate, watched television. I was about to go and shower,” he jerked his thumb back towards the room. They fell silent, Zayn contentedly drawing on his cig and Harry watching him and the smoke that drifted from between his lips and nose. It was oddly comforting, the sight, the smell.

 

“We ran into a pack of fangirls, by the way,” Harry finally said, and Zayn turned his head to stare at Harry and replied,

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, they all asked about you. ‘Where’s Zayn, vas happenin with Zayn?’ Bit ridiculous, I mean, I can’t see why you’re the favorite, it’s not like you’re good looking or anything-“ Harry’s story was interrupted as Zayn attacked him, ticking his sides until Harry was crying with laughter. Zayn relented and stepped back, allowing Harry to breathe properly. When he had calmed down Harry continued.

 

“Anyway, we gave them autographs and all that, but they kept asking about you. Next time you’ll be coming, mate.”

 

“Sure, sure. Were they fit, the girls?” Harry opened his mouth to answer but was cut off my Zayn’s ringtone. It was Perrie. He tilted the screen slightly so Harry couldn’t see him silence his girlfriend’s call, and replaced his phone with another cigarette, offering one to Harry, who took one and placed it gingerly between his lips and leaned in for Zayn to light it. Their eyes caught for a moment and Zayn was struck by the way the flame shone in Harry’s green eyes and captured the image in his head. Then Harry leaned back, and said,

 

“You smoke too much, Zayn.”

 

“Fuck off.” And then,

 

“Was that Perrie?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Whoever just called you, you asshead, was it Perrie?”

 

“I-“ Zayn paused, debated, and decided that Harry had a right to now. “Yeah, it was.” 

Harry shifted his gaze, blew a ring of smoke into the air. “Are you two – you know, okay?” Zayn gave a dry chuckle.

 

“I’m not sure what we are, but it’s not okay….” He trailed off in thought, adding “At least for her,” under his breath, but Harry heard him and raised an eyebrow.

 

“You mean, you’re okay with not – I mean, the distance, and everything?” 

Zayn nodded affirmatively. “I’m okay with not waking up next to her every morning, not seeing her or even talking to her every day, it’s…” 

“It’s….?” Harry prompted when Zayn did not continue. He sighed, tapping the ash from the tip of his cigarette on the balcony.

 

“It’s taken this tour, this month away from her, for me to realize that I guess – well, I guess I just don’t need her, you know? And she’s got her own life, college and everything, and I’m bad for her, Harry, don’t you see? I’m not right. I’m not what she’s looking for, I’m not-“ Zayn broke off, and in the dim city light Harry could see he was blushing, embarrassed for having rambled off in such a very un-Zayn like manner. Harry reached out an arm and patted Zayn’s back comfortingly, and Zayn just shook his head and took a vicious drag of his cigarette.

 

“I get it. Gosh, I’m sorry. Anything I can do? I mean, taking into account the fact that I am one hundred percent single…” Zayn wondered if he was imagining the lower tone of voice that Harry seemed to adopt just then.

 

“It’s fine.” A pause, and then, “Actually, get me a drink, cheers.”

 

Harry disappeared into the apartment, and came back out after a minute with an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, clutching the neck between two knuckles as he slid the glass door into place behind him. He tossed the bottle heavily to Zayn, who caught it. He unscrewed the top and took a large gulp, wincing before setting the bottle down on the rail. He felt better immediately, a warm numbing feeling encasing him like a glove. Comfortable. Happy, really happy.

 

“You know, we aren’t supposed to drink the night before a concert,” Harry said as he took a sip of the whiskey. Zayn made a hmph noise in the back of his throat, and took another large mouthful.

 

“It’s your bottle.”

 

“I know. I’m just saying.”

 

A warm breeze swept over the balcony and both boys hummed in appreciation. Grinning slightly manically, feeling more confident than he had in ages, Zayn suddenly grabbed Harry’s arm and swung him so they stood face to face.

 

“You scared?”

 

“Of what?”

 

Zayn laughed, really laughed this time, throwing his head back, eyes squinted and nose furrowed. “What’s so funny?” Harry demanded, feeling unnerved by this sudden change of behavior in his friend.

 

“I haven’t felt so free in months, Har, months. It’s like – it’s like I’m my own man now, I’m not tied to her anymore. Have you ever felt this good?” He turned from Harry to face New York, the city lights sprawling out into the distance, skyscrapers jutting obtrusively from the shimmering haze of gas below. Nothing had ever looked more beautiful. The entire world stretched out in front of him, streets waiting to be walked, people to be met, oceans to swim in, and a lifetime with which to do it all. Zayn felt as though his chest were bursting apart, freed from its iron chains after a long time. He could do anything now, be anyone. The realization snuffed out all previous fear and uncertainty of the future. “I’M FREE, MOTHERFUCKERS! YOU HEAR THAT? FREE AS A MOTHERFUCKING BIRD!” Zayn bellowed hysterically to anyone who would hear him, which was only Harry, who watched him in fascination and uncertainty.

 

≈≈≈ 

He started hopping and dancing all over the balcony, beer in hand, spraying it over both of them as he whooped and hollered. Zayn’s frenetic dance turned into a flurry of movement as he spun around until he couldn’t think straight. He looked beautiful, unearthly, demonic, the faint orange city glow bathing his gyrating body until Harry saw him in slow motion; the hips, the lean legs, the sweat gathered under his arms, the normally perfect hair a wild dark mess, possessed by some strange gypsy spirit, and watching him, Harry felt something inside of him click into place. As though Zayn’s epiphany had unlocked him in a way.

 

Zayn leaned over the balcony so far that Harry began to fear he might fall off. Both arms were extended, two middle fingers waving without a care at the entire world. He turned, and Harry could see the animal inside of him come to the surface, the teeth bared, the frenzy of excitement and mania in his shining eyes. There was no more of the sweetness and gentleness that Perrie had brought into him.  
Zayn swayed on his feet and Harry rushed forward. He collapsed into Harry’s arms, exhausted and breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. Zayn looked, dazed, into Harry’s eyes and smiled broadly.

 

“The world’s out to get us, Harry, but we won’t let them. They’re trying to pull us down but we’ll fight back. They’re not gonna get us. I was scared of them before, Harry, but now, I’m not scared, I’m not scared, I’m not-“

 

“Zayn.” Harry’s voice was solid, steady. “Zayn, please. You’re not in your right mind. Let me help you.”

 

And then it was gone as quickly as it had come, the moment of delirium had passed through him and Zayn seemed to crumple in Harry’s arms. The shine in his eyes dulled to something along the lines of a tranquil satisfaction. In a small voice drained of all previous energy, Zayn replied, 

“She’s gone, Harry.”

 

“I know. But I’m not. I’m here for you. Let me help you.”

 

“Okay.” His eyes unfocused for a moment, his jaw went slack, and Harry began to fear that Zayn was undergoing some kind of internal attack. But then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes like a little kid, blinked, and smiled quietly at Harry. “I’m okay,” he said more to himself than to his bandmate.

 

“You wanna take a bath?” Harry rubbed Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn just nodded.

 

Harry might have been half an inch taller than Zayn, but Zayn ate as much as Niall and worked out three times more. Aka, he was heavy and Harry was already light-headed from the beer. He helped Zayn into a standing position and knelt. Zayn clambered onto his back a bit awkwardly, as he was holding the Jack Daniels in one hand, and clung onto his neck a little too tightly. Harry didn’t have the heart – or strength – to protest. He trudged into the hotel room and nudged the bathroom door open with his toe. Zayn slid to the ground in a boneless pile, cradling Jack, and Harry turned the water knob in the tub as hot as it would go, plugging the drain and returning to where Zayn lay motionless.

 

“You gonna go in with your clothes on or should I give you a hand?” Harry asked gently, and Zayn made a muffled noise into the crook of his arm. “Guess I’ll give you a hand, then,” he muttered, and hoisted Zayn up slightly so he could slide the sweaty t-shirt off his feverish body. Zayn seemed to come to and lifted his hips up, allowing Harry to yank his jeans and boxers off.

 

Harry stared in wonder as Zayn slithered into the steaming water that rose slowly until he was submerged up to his neck. Harry turned the tap. Zayn watched his every movement, eyeing him lazily, expectantly. He looked drunk. He probably was.

 

“What?” Harry asked finally, feeling self-concious under Zayn’s keen gaze.

 

“Aren’t you coming in?”

 

“I suppose, if you want,” he muttered, hands scrabbling to pull his jacket off and toss it behind him.

 

“I want,” Zayn murmured as he followed Harry’s hands as they hastily removed each article of clothing until he stood, pale and bare, before the older boy. The bathtub was plenty large; all five of the gang could have fit in it comfortably. But as Harry stepped over the edge and lowered himself in (he hoped he looked at least half as good as Zayn did right now) Zayn scooted closer to him and rested his damp head on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Harry…” 

Despite the fact that he was sitting in a vat of boiling water, goosebumps erupted over Harry’s skin upon hearing Zayn say his name like that. Like it was normal, good, for them to be taking a bath together, just the two of them. Like he was wanted.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Of course, mate. You sure you’ll be all right?” 

Zayn jerked his head noncommittally. “Sure.”

 

“Well, if you wanna talk about it, I’m…I’m here.” 

Zayn rotated his head and caught Harry’s gaze and the edge of his mouth tugged up slightly. Harry prayed that Zayn didn’t notice the slight mishap occurring beneath the water on his end and smiled back. He couldn’t help being hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched; Zayn’s neck on his shoulder, his bicep on Harry’s ribs, two fingertips that rubbed his hipbone.  
The dim bathroom lights pulsated slowly, hypnotically, and Harry could feel his eyelids drooping. He felt relaxed and comfortable in the deliciously warm water. His pulse resounded in his ears, a fain t thump-thump that was interrupted by a soft sniffle. A great shudder passed through Zayn and Harry felt it inside of him. Zayn tried to stifle the sob that ripped out of his throat. When he spoke his voice was thick with unshed tears. 

“Harry, I don’t think – I don’t want to h-hurt her more than I already have-“

 

“Shh, shh. You aren’t hurting her, and you never have.”

 

“-but I’m not used t-to being alone, without h-her, but I know that I have to leave her, otherwise…”

 

“Otherwise…?”

 

“I can’t do this forever, Harry. I can’t sing and perform forever. I want to have a life that’s mine, not One Direction’s, a life that the entire fucking world doesn’t know.” His fingers traced lower down Harry’s side as he spoke, voice still trembling slightly. Harry found himself mesmerized by his throaty voice, the sharp juncture where his jawbone melded into his neck, the way the light splayed across his wet skin. “I just – I feel like there’s this thirst, this itch under my skin that I can never seem to satisfy, something crawling inside of be begging to get out, but I don’t know what it is.” The fingers crawled along Harry’s thigh now, approaching dangerous territory. Zayn looked at Harry and his eyes were red-rimmed and beautiful. “Do you know?” He pleaded, eyes beseeching Harry, “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

 

Without warning Zayn’s wandering hand caught Harry’s stiff cock in the water and Harry gasped. Zayn gave a watery knowing smile that twisted Harry’s insides and sent a spasm of heat through his every fiber.

 

“Fuck me, Harry.” His eyes did not waver as he stared at the younger boy. “Fuck me like you fuck Louis. Please.”

 

“I-“

 

“Shh,” Zayn pressed a finger to Harry’s lips, silencing whatever he was about to say. “They don’t have to know. It can be our secret, Hazza.” For a second they just stared at each other. The thudding in Harry’s ears had become a deafening roar as Zayn’s serious sensual features fazed in and out of focus. Harry gulped and realized he was not afraid. 

He nodded and watched as Zayn’s eyes darkened a degree, lust overpowering all other emotion. They stood in unison, water sloshing out of the tub and onto the floor. Zayn took Harry’s hand and led them into Harry and Niall’s shared room.

 

The reddish-whiteish city light from the floor-to-ceiling glass window suffused the room. Everything, it seemed, had fallen silent, save the continuous pounding in Harry’s brain. The world watched as Harry pushed Zayn onto one of the beds, and covered Zayn’s long body with his own. His skin was on fire, he was on fire. Harry framed Zayn’s face in his hands and bent his head to brush his lips up Zayn’s neck, along his jawline, pausing at his chin. 

 

“You sure about this?” Harry whispered into Zayn’s mouth, knowing full well what the answer would be.

 

“Fuck, yes,” Zayn murmured, and nothing had ever sounded so alluring.

 

Harry brought their lips together with a slight tilt of his head and could not help the moan that rose from him. Zayn grabbed the back of his head and pulled Harry further into his mouth, tongue probing the hot wet cavern, hips rubbing upwards, desperate for friction. Wet skin on wet skin, moist heat filling the small spaces between their bodies…it was electric. They kissed deeply, urgently.

 

In one quick motion Zayn had Harry flipped over onto his back with Zayn looming over him. In the half-light, Harry’s tousled wet hair, gleaming eyes, quivering body, had turned him into a creature of the night. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, nipples taut. Zayn bent his head and took one pink bud into his mouth and bit, hard. The hot bud pebbled at the contact. Harry mewled and Zayn moved further down his body, running his tongue down Harry’s warm chest, stomach, abdomen, lower.

 

“Zayn, god,” Harry gasped as Zayn hovered over his twitching cock for a moment. Zayn raised his eyes to Harry in slow motion and smiled mischievously, almost sadistically. In a tantalizing show he brought his tongue out to the tip of Harry’s cock and gave it a small lick. Harry’s hips shot upwards desperately. “Shit, Zayn, don’t do this, please-“

 

There was a pause as Zayn stopped to stare at Harry, a small space of time that seemed to stretch forever and yet took no time at all. Zayn’s eyes glowed, and it was maddening and he was perfect and Harry wanted it so, so badly yet he couldn’t bring himself to move and break this trance - without warning Zayn took Harry’s cock into his mouth with a long slurping sound. The warm wetness of Zayn’s mouth closed around him, his head bobbed up and down as he slowly, leisurely sucked Harry off. The heat building in Harry’s groin was becoming searing, almost painful. “S-stop,” he panted, sitting up.

 

Zayn looked up in confusion at Harry’s protest.

 

“Harry, what-“ 

He grabbed Zayn’s arms and pulled him up, kissing him wetly on the mouth before flipping him onto his stomach. Harry straddled the older boy and took a deep breath. Zayn’s bare back glistened in the city’s glow, an expanse of unmapped territory waiting to be touched, caressed, loved. Zayn writhed and fidgeted underneath him, but Harry was in no rush.

 

“Shhhh. I’m here.” Tentatively, Harry reached out his hands, fingertips gently brushing the tops of Zayn’s shoulders. So smooth.

 

“Harry…” He began to massage the muscle beneath the smooth dark skin, rubbing his fingers into the tense tissue. Zayn’s movements slowed, and his breathing evened. “Harry, that feels….nice.”

 

“Good.” He kept at it, using his entire hands to dig into the center of Zayn, inducing him to soft ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s. His vision was limited to the body in front of him, asking to be claimed – and Harry was more than ready to claim it. The hands stopped their ministrations, and Zayn froze.  
Leaning over him, Harry kissed the nape of Zayn’s neck, then the small hollow at the top of his back, kissed a slow trail down his tailbone, kissed both of his asscheeks. Zayn’s bum was smaller and firmer than Louis’s. It occurred to Harry that that was the first time the entire night that Louis had crossed his mind.

 

Now that round firm bum was in his face. Harry placed a hand on either cheek and spread Zayn open. Instinctively, Zayn raised his hips so that Harry’s nose bumped the end of his tailbone. The silence pounded in his brain. Harry let out a string of saliva and watched it slide between Zayn’s ass. He shuddered. It was so beautiful.

 

Harry spit once more into his hand and slicked himself up. He nudged his forefinger into Zayn’s puckered hole, and Zayn trembled. “Oh –“

 

“It’s okay, Zayn. It’s okay.” He added a second finger and began to move them when Zayn’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his penetrating wrist. Harry froze. Zayn slowly tilted his head so that he was staring at the younger boy. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils completely black. “Do it. Now.”

 

Wordlessly Harry nodded, and slid his fingers out. Zayn raised himself to his knees and elbows, legs parted. Harry stroked himself once, twice, then lined his stiff cock up to Zayn’s entrance. His head felt ready to explode but Harry was completely calm. As if all of this was normal. A friend helping a friend. Nothing more. The tip of his cock edged into Zayn, who closed around him tightly. Zayn made no noise as Harry slid into him. He took everything Harry had to give, until the front of Harry’s calves were pressed flush against the back of Zayn’s.

 

Harry shut his eyes and when he opened them the world had frozen. He looked down and saw where his curly brown hair tickled Zayn’s buttocks, saw himself inside of Zayn, Zayn’s back, Zayn exposed and vulnerable and all his. Slowly, Harry pulled out halfway and then pushed himself back into Zayn’s tight hot heat. He heard Zayn exhale and whisper, ‘Go,’ and that was the tipping point.

 

Grabbing Zayn’s narrow hips in his hands, Harry began to fuck him roughly, pulling out and slamming back in so that the entire bed shook. Zayn shoved back, impaling himself on Harry, arms shaking with the weight of holding himself up. Their panting breaths matched the erratic thrusts. Neither boy made a noise, afraid of breaking the spell. The warmth in Harry’s abdomen had spread throughout his chest and arms and legs, filling him with a carnal hunger. He sped up, reached an arm around Zayn’s sweaty body and grasped his cock in his palm. Harry squeezed and jacked Zayn off as they approached the edge. His breath was coming in short heavy pants. The last few thrusts were violent and ungraceful. Harry came into Zayn with a silent moan, head falling back and mouth open in a small O.

 

≈≈≈ 

Zayn collapsed onto his stomach, and Harry fell on top of him, chest pressed to Zayn’s back. They were breathing heavily. Harry’s breath was hot on Zayn’s shoulder, and his body was a comforting weight on top of him. He was exhausted, drained. Harry made to pull out of him but Zayn wrapped his arms behind him and grasped Harry’s bum, keeping him where he was.

 

“No…stay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They lay like that in silence, chests heaving and gradually slowing in the light of the city. Zayn was burning on the inside still, but it was no longer the raging wildfire of emotion that it had been earlier. The fire had been reduced to a smoldering flame that flickered and sustained him, but did not threaten to devour him. His thoughts roamed freely for what felt like hours. Harry must have fallen asleep on him because when he rolled onto his side and extracted himself from Harry’s limp cock, the younger boy did not say anything. 

Zayn stood slowly, letting the blood go to his head, picked up the Jack Daniels bottle from the floor and padded out onto the balcony. It was slightly chilly, and his cock shuddered. His cigarettes were where he had left them earlier.

 

Zayn was disappointed to see that there were only three left. He stuck one between his lips and lit it, letting the nicotine calm his electrified nerves. Harry had been an amazing fuck, and exactly what he had been needing. He alternated between his cigarette and Jack, and did not notice Harry come out onto the balcony until warm arms wrapped around his torso.

 

“Hey.” Harry nuzzled Zayn’s ear.

 

“Hey.” He let Harry rest on him like that. It was nice. “Cigarette?” Harry accepted, and the two of them stood there smoking the last of Zayn’s pack and drinking from Harry’s bottle. Stark naked on a New York balcony. And it felt so good.

 

“You okay?” Harry murmured, digging his nose into Zayn’s hair. He nodded, looking out across the city.

 

“Better than okay.” Zayn turned to face Harry, and leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.” He released Harry, stepped away, and made to walk inside. 

Before he could shut the door Harry called out,

 

“Zayn?”

 

“Yeah?” 

He took in all of Harry, standing above the city and beneath the moon, long and pale and beautiful.

 

“If you ever need any more…help…well, I’m always here.” Harry smiled, teeth glinting. Zayn nodded briefly, and chuckled before heading into the apartment, leaving Harry and Jack in the calm stillness of the city night, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before he took Harry up on that offer.

**Author's Note:**

> So....normally I'm not a huge harry/zayn person because ziam forever but this is probably going to be my only exception work.


End file.
